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A  Little  Girl 

■  t 

and 

The  Lions 


By 

Reo.  E.  H.  Richards,  D.  D. 


Price,  two  ccn/s 


A  LITTLE  GIRL 


{This  true  incident  is  related  by  Ret.  E.  H. 
Richards,  D.D) 

SHE  lives  in  Africa  not  far  from  Pakule, 
a  lovely  little  paradise  close  to  the  spot 
where  the  Tropic  of  Capricorn  dives 
into  the  Indian  Ocean  on  the  east  coast.  Her 
full  name  is  Xidedevela  Mtimasana  (She-day- 
day-vay-lah  M-tee-mah-sah-nah),  which  in 
English  is  Miss  Watercress  Littleblack. 

She  was  about  ten  years  old  when  this  story 
begins,  delightfully  black,  and  as  full  of  energy 
as  a  buzzing  bumblebee. 

A  few  miles  from  her  home  a  native  Chris¬ 
tian  convert  named  Augilazl  (glass)  and  his 
wife,  Mabumbi  (ear  of  com),  had  opened  a  sta¬ 
tion  where  they  were  teaching  “  everything 
that  the  white  man  knew  ”  so  far  as  they 
understood  it;  and  that  was  clear  into  the 
Kingdom  of  Heaven  in  one  direction. 

The  children  on  this  station  went  out  two 
by  two  —  in  real  Bible  fashion  —  calling  on  all 
the  people  within  five  miles  of  the  meeting 
house  and  one  day  came  to  the  k.rall  where 
our  small  friend  Xidedevela  lived. 


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She  was  wide  awake  to  all  they  had  to  tell 
and  went  home  with  them  at  once  to  see  and 
hear  more  of  what  was  doing.  She  saw  that 
each  of  the  station  girls  had  a  good  denim 
gown,  while  she  still  wore  only  a  suit  of  peanut 
oil  and  sunshine,  but  what  impressed  her  most 
was  the  singing,  reciting,  praying  and  all  the 
lively  life  of  the  mission  school. 

The  music  touched  her  so  deeply  that  tears 
ran  down  her  shining  cheeks.  The  story  of 
Daniel  in  the  lions’  den  was  just  the  thing  for 
her,  for  she  knew  where  the  lions  were,  and 
still  worse,  they  knew  where  she  was!  She 
was  glad  to  learn  that  there  was  One  who  could 
make  even  the  roaring  lions  behave  them¬ 
selves. 

When  she  went  home  she  told  her  mother 
that  she  was  going  to  be  a  Christian  and  begin 
right  away.  But  this  announcement  did  not 
make  the  mother  happy.  If  her  little  girl 
were  a  Christian  she  would  never  grind  com 
to  make  beer  nor  tend  the  still  where  strong 
drink  was  made;  nor  would  she  join  the  dance 
any  more,  nor  be  but  the  “  one  wife  ”  of  any 
man.  And  was  it  not  the  glory  of  woman  to 
distil  rum  from  plantains  and  whiskey  from 
com?  Could  she  ever  be  anything  if  not 
chief  dancer  in  the  national  game?  And  to  be 
the  first  or  only  wife  meant  poverty  for  her 
whole  family,  where  she  would  have  all  the 


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work  to  do,  and  her  husband  be  known  as 

a  man-of-less-than-grasshopper-size.” 

Now  the  mother  of  Xidedevela,  whose  name 
as  nearly  as  we  can  recall  it  was  Mrs. 
Ignora  Muss,  believed  all  these  things  and  was 
desperately  in  earnest  to  save  her  child  from 
the  “  medicine  ”  of  the  missionary.  This 
foreign  witch-M.  D.  might  be  well  enough 
for  his  own  tribe  and  country  but  not  for 
Africa. 

Meanwhile  the  little  girl  returned  to  the 
mission,  and  finally  ran  away  and  lived  there 
This  aroused  her  mother,  who  went  after  her, 
brought  her  home  and  whipped  her  enough  to 
drive  out  any  sort  of  new  spirits,  she  thought. 

But  as  soon  as  chance  offered,  away  went 
the  brave  child  to  the  mission  again:  and  again 
the  mother  brought  her  home,  —  this  time 
calling  in  the  witch-doctor  who  whipped  her 
well  but  in  vain,  as  she  would  not  consent  to 
leave  the  station. 

Then  he  tied  her  feet  to  the  limb  of  a  tree 
with  her  head  hanging  down,  hoping  that  her 
religion  might  ooze  out  from  her  mouth,  but 
hers  was  not  the  oozing-out  sort. 

Following  this  he  gave  her  dreadful  doses 
of  his  medicine  calculated  to  destroy  the 
“  religious  germs  ”  but  all  in  vain.  Xidedevela 
lived,  and  by  eating  commeal  mush  seasoned 
with  peanut  gravy  and  thickened  with  pow- 


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dered  caterpillar,  etc.,  she  gained  strength  to 
make  a  safe  rush  to  the  mission  station  again. 

She  did  not  report  the  dreadful  treatment 
of  the  witch-doctor,  nor  her  mother’s  unkind¬ 
ness,  until  some  time  after  her  final  tribula¬ 
tion,  which  she  must  now  endure.  For  her 
mother  determined  on  one  last  terrible  resort 
to  save  her  child  for  heathendom. 

She  appeared  again  at  the  station  and  took 
the  little  daughter  home  with  her.  Toward 
evening  she  prepared  some  bark  rope,  took 
Xidedevela  to  the  forest,  where  with  her  own 
hands  she  bound  the  little  arms  behind  her  and 
then  tied  her  to  a  tamarind  tree,  hoping  that 
lions  would  come  and  either  frighten  the  re¬ 
ligion  out  of  her,  or,  if  the  worst  must  come, 
that  they  would  eat  her  up.  Was  it  not 
better  so  than  to  have  her  lost  to  everything  in 
the  home,  the  tribe  and  the  nation? 

No  one  knows  what  occurred  in  the  dark, 
dismal  forest  that  night,  but  one  can  believe 
that  the  little  black  martyr  bound  to  a  tree 
was  not  left  alone. 

In  the  early  morning  a  small  boy  went  out 
to  pray,  as  is  the  usual  custom  on  all  the  sta¬ 
tions  in  these  parts,  and  as  he  began  his  peti¬ 
tion  Xidedevela  heard  him,  and  knowing  that 
it  was  the  voice  of  a  Christian  at  prayer, 
though  she  did  not  know  who  it  was,  she  called 
to  him.  He  heard  her,  came  and  untied  the 


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bark  rope  which  bound  her  and  brought  her 
to  the  station. 

The  teacher  says  that  lion  tracks  were 
within  fifteen  feet  of  where  the  child  was  bound. 
They  had  lain  down,  sat  down,  stood  and 
walked  about  till  they  had  meditated  their 
toothsome  morsel  from  every  point,  with 
never  a  nearer  scent  than  their  fifteen  feet 
of  solid  distance  permitted. 

Instead  of  scaring  the  religion  out,  the  dark 
night  had  proved  to  be  the  greatest  help  to 
its  rapid  growth. 

When  questioned  later  as  to  her  sensations 
within  this  den  of  lions,  she  remarked  with  all 
the  confidence  of  a  modem  Daniel,  “You 
taught  that  the  Great  Great  made  the  lions 
and  that  He  also  made  me;  and  He  would 
never  have  let  us  eat  each  other  up!” 

Who  can  think  calmly  of  enduring  such  an 
ordeal?  Let  the  philosopher  try  to  “  explain  ” 
if  he  will,  but  we  prefer  to  believe  that  the 
angel  who  “  shut  the  lions’  mouths  ”  in  old 
Babylon  was  very  near  to  Xidedevela  that 
night  in  the  African  forest. 

WOMAN'S  FOREIGN  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY 
METHODIST  EPISCOPAL  CHURCH 
BOSTON,  MASS, 

1912 


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